


Peter Parker Whumptober 2019

by sketchibilitea



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Domestic Avengers, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Mayhaps, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags May Change, Whump, Whumptober, Whumptober 2019, Wish me luck, am i doing it every day, high school is annoying, i highly doubt it will hold up but we'll see, i'm on a 2 day streak lol, idk - Freeform, lol, what else am i supposed to put here, yes this is whumptober, you can look up the whumptober prompt list and boom thats what i'll be doing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2020-11-22 06:28:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20869697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sketchibilitea/pseuds/sketchibilitea
Summary: Exactly what it sounds like- 31 days of Peter Parker whump, from asphyxiation to explosions, we've got our month of whump. Trigger Warnings will be posted in the notes of every chapter :)





	1. "Shaky Hands"

**Author's Note:**

> So, I know I didn't technically post the first chapter until October 2nd, but I did write it on October 1st- I just didn't have time to format it and put it here before high school messed me up. And I'm working on Chapter 2 right now.
> 
> TW: Panic attacks
> 
> Oh and this takes place a couple of months after Homecoming!

Sometimes Peter would get shaky hands. His breathing would speed up, his heart would beat fast, and he'd feel like his world would come crashing down in a second. 

And he'd ignore it. 

He knew it wasn't normal, knew he should tell someone about it, take initiative, figure it out. He knew it wasn't healthy.

He didn't even know what 'it' was. Just that it was consuming his life, slowly but surely, making him wake up with tunnel vision, gasping, afraid for his life.

He had his suspicions, though.

PTSD. Post traumatic stress disorder.

Night after night Peter had sat up, sensitive eyes burning as he stared blankly at the glaring brightness of his phone screen. Reading article after article after article, deleting his search history time after time again, because May couldn't know. She'd only now just found out about Spider-Man, and she'd taken it decently well, only giving him a tongue-lashing before stopping and making sure he knew she loved him. And he did know, he did.

Which is why she couldn't know about this.

Couldn't know about the nights he stayed up, heaviness weighing his eyelids down but he couldn't close them, he _couldn't_, because then he'd be _back there_, under the concrete and rubble, or falling from the sky, or stranded amid burning wreckage.

After reading the articles he'd open his messages app and click on one specific number, the one that only had one message on it reading 'It's Peter.'

It was _his_ number. Tony's.

Peter would stare at it endlessly, type out everything he wanted to say in one l o n g text message before deleting it all.

He never hit send.

He desperately wanted to, wanted to confide in Mr. Stark about all the issues he was having, the nightmares, the panic attacks, the shaky hands. But he _couldn't_. 

After the Incident, Mr. Stark was making an effort to connect. He'd talk to Peter on the phone, offer him tips on his latest battle, and he'd sometimes invite Peter over to the Compound to help fix the Spidey suit if it got ripped or destroyed during a particularly bad fight.

But that's just the thing; while they'd gotten closer over aspects of _Spider-Man_, they had never discussed _Peter_ except for that one chat with May about how much Spider-Man could interfere with his personal life and school activities. And Peter knew he shouldn't be bitter about it; after all, Mr. Stark had come for _Spider-Man_, not Peter Parker.

So as much as he wanted to confide in the man about his personal life, about how stressed he was over a test coming up or of how he just couldn't figure this problem out or how his hands shook nowadays, he couldn't.

So he stuck to pouring out his heart and soul into text messages every night before deleting every last one.

Tonight was different.

Peter was shaking viciously as he typed out a single word with trembling fingers.

\--

Peter Parker to Tony Stark, 10:19 PM

_Help._

\--

He hit send.

... and immediately threw his phone across the room.

"_Idiot_," he whispered to himself, hands reaching up to tug at his hair. He jumped up and started to pace, becoming increasingly agitated. "Why would you _do that_?" he muttered. "It's 10 o'clock at night, all you're doing is breathing a little weird and shaking and you send _Tony Stark_ a message saying 'help'?" Peter's breathing sped up arbitrarily. "Nothing's really wrong! It's just me breathing weird. What a _useless thing_ to send a text about. My second text ever to him and it's a false emergency! I'm an idiot, he's never going to want to be around me again, he's never gonna-"

His phone rang.

Peter froze, fingers still threaded through his wavy brown locks.

_Ringring._

His enhanced eyesight caught a glimpse of the name on the screen. 

Tony Stark.

_Ringring._

Peter felt like all the breath was knocked out of his chest, and his fingers itched to pick up the phone, but his brain screamed to ignore it, to not let him know, to call back later, to convince him that it was all an accident-

_Ringring._

Peter's hands shook as he lowered them from his hair.

_Ringring._

He didn't move.

_Ringr-_

The ringing stopped, and the screen went dark.

Peter let out half cry, knowing he'd missed his opportunity to get help, he'd messed it all up, Tony would be so annoyed with him. But then-

"Kid?" a voice echoed through the phone, and Peter, who had moved a bit closer to the device while it was ringing, let out a startled yelp and scuffled back, heart beating quickly. Yet the knot of panic that had rested in his stomach all evening was unraveling at the sound of his mentor's voice.

"Kid?" the voice asked again when Peter yelped. It sounded clearer now, like Tony had moved closer to the phone. "Are you alright?"

Peter grabbed the phone and held it close to his face, trying to hold his mentor's comfort as close to him as he could. 

_Idiot._ His inner voice said. _You texted him, made him call you, then you ignored him, and now you can't even say anything to him._

Peter's breathing sped up, the panic that was starting to dissolve coming back full force.

There was silence at the end of the phone line for a few moments, before Peter heard shuffling and Tony asked: 

"Are you having a panic attack?"

At those words, Peter felt the desperate need to rebuke that statement arise in him, and he choked out his answer vehemently. "No." he said quickly, harshly, despite there having been no judgement in Tony's voice when he asked the question. Shame at his tone of voice arose in him, and, if possible, his breathing grew heavier and heavier until he felt light headed and was certain he would pass out.

"-eter. Peter." he heard Tony's voice say over the line. "Can you tell me 5 things you can see."

Peter was silent for a moment before processing his mentor's request. "I-uh, the phone, my desk, blanket, the floor- uh, my bed." Peter said, glancing wildly around his room.

"Good." Tony's voice said, calm and strong. "4 things you can hear."

"You." Peter said, pausing to listen. "My heartbeat, the cars outside, uh- May breathing in her room."

Things were starting to spin a little less, and more oxygen was entering Peter's lungs when Tony said: "Great, that's good. How about 3 things you can feel?"

"The phone." Peter said, feeling his phone's rough case press against his palm. "The carpet. My pajamas."

"Alright. 2 things you can smell?" Tony asked, and Peter focused.

"Burnt pasta from May's attempt to make dinner earlier, and, uh, pizza from the next door apartment."

"Good, Peter. What about one thing you can taste?" Tony asked, and Peter blinked, running a tongue over his chapped lips.

"Toothpaste." he said, groping around his room for a chapstick he could use, surprised that he no longer felt like he was drowning.

"There you go." Tony said, as Peter found the chapstick and applied it.

They were both silent for a moment before Peter spoke up. "Mr. Stark I'm so sorry, I typed that but I didn't mean to hit send-"

"Whoa whoa whoa hold up there." Tony said. "I'm not mad. I thought we'd agreed for you to tell me when you needed help. I _want_ you to tell me when you need help. If you didn't mean to hit send, how many other times have you needed help and not called me?"

"I-" Peter opened his mouth, stopped, and started again. "I thought that was just for... Spider-Man things." he said meekly. "Getting hurt on patrol, that sort of stuff. Not... Peter things."

"Peter- Peter things?" Tony asked from the other end of the line. "May I ask what is a Peter thing but _not_ a Spider-Man thing? Peter and Spider-Man are the same person, last time I checked. And if you're having panic attacks in your bedroom at 10 o'clock at night, like hell it isn't my responsibility to help you."

"It wasn't a panic attack," Peter insisted meekly.

Tony was silent on the other end for a couple of heartbeats before releasing a breath. "Peter," he started, sounding exhausted. "I've been down that path before, trust me. Ignoring it for what it is isn't going to make it go away."

It was Peter's turn to be silent. "You've-" he asked, unable to finish.

"Yes. They're not great. Feeling like you're drowning? Or being crushed? Rapid breathing? Unable to get air? Those are all signs of a panic attack."

Peter gave a weak laugh. "That sounded like a really bad advertisement."

"Yeah, yeah, laugh while I'm attempting to be serious for once in my life." Tony grumbled, but Peter could hear the humor in his voice, albeit a bit awkward. Frankly Peter was surprised it wasn't more awkward than it was right now; this was the most personal conversation they'd ever had.

Tony allowed the mood to be light for a couple of moments longer before continuing. "But, really, Peter..." he paused, trying to find the right words. "I get it."

Peter's chest went tight at the words, but not from panic. In fact, he was feeling an overwhelming urge of gratefulness towards Tony, because he desperately needed to hear those words.

"I get it, and kid, I'm bad with emotions- just a quick little disclaimer-" Peter snorted lightly. "-but if you need to call me, I don't care if it's 4 AM, call me. Seriously, insomnia's a bitch, I'll probably still be up. And if you ever need me to fly over there, I'll be there, kid. You know how much I love flaunting my armor. Iron Man to the rescue."

Peter gave a short laugh. "Thanks, Mr. Stark, but I'm pretty sure you'd have some explaining to do if Iron Man was seen randomly flying to Queens at 4 in the morning on a weekday."

"What, I can't go out for my personal enjoyment?" Tony said. "What is this, an anarchy?"

"I don't think that's the right use of the word anarchy, Mr. Stark."

"Close enough."

Peter smiled. The panic was completely gone.

"Thank you, Mr. Stark." he said again. To an outsider, it would have made no sense following what Tony just said, but both of them knew what he was thanking the man for.

"Yeah, no problem, kid. Now shouldn't you be asleep or something?"

Peter laughed again, standing up. "No, I have a chemistry test tomorrow I have to study for."

"Study for?" Mr. Stark asked. "You're literally a genius who made spider-webs with incredible tensile strength, what are you doing studying for chemistry?"

"I know the concepts, Mr. Stark, but there's a vocab section and while I know how to apply chemistry in the modern world, I don't know all the people in history who shaped what chemistry is to us today."

"That's stupid, I don't even know all those people." Mr. Stark said. "Besides, what's the point of that, I can still do chemistry and not know who or what some old white men did."

"Assessments are a social construct to test our knowledge on meaningless strands of knowledge." Peter said. "And, going by what you just said, that means you're an old white man because you're one of the people on the test."

"Smart ass." Tony said. "Well, you need to study then, so skedaddle there, young buck."

"Yeah, yeah." Peter muttered.

"Night, kid." Tony said, and he was hesitating, Peter could hear it in his voice. "Oh, and if you need any help with your... stuff, homework, whatever, I could help you on the math and science parts if you needed it. I could try on the history or english parts, but... those were more Cap's area of expertise. Rhodey would probably know, though, so... yeah, if you need help, just give me a call. That help extends to 'Peter things' too."

While Mr. Stark stumbled through his explanation, Peter's smile grew wider and wider. It was obvious Tony wasn't exactly well versed in how to deal with kids, especially teenager spider-mutant-kids, but he was really trying and it meant a lot to Peter.

"I will, Mr. Stark, thank you."

"Yeah, yeah, night, have fun studying."

"So fun." Peter murmured, hanging up the phone. But the smile stayed on his face and gave him new vigor for studying for his chem test. When he got the test back, graded with a big red 100 at the top right corner, he grinned before taking a picture and texting it to Tony.

\--

Peter Parker to Tony Stark, 3:22 PM

_Look what I got! -image-_

Tony Stark to Peter Parker, 3:24 PM

_Nice job, kid. I knew you could do it._

\--

That night, his hands didn't shake once.


	2. "Explosion"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, what is this, a 2 day streak? M u t i n y.
> 
> Lol no I'm just procrastinating on studying for the 3 tests I have tomorrow :P
> 
> TW: Blood, gore, can't really think of anything else but you get it.
> 
> This takes place some ambiguous time after Homecoming; the Avengers were pardoned but that's not the main focus of this story. IW and Endgame have not happened yet/ never will happen, whichever you prefer.

_Crash._

_Boom._

_cRASH._

Spider-Man's limp body flew through the air, thrown by the force of the explosion. The last thing Peter could feel was his body floating, weightless, before darkness enveloped him completely.

~ ~ ~

**7 hours earlier...**

Peter groaned as light filtered through his eyelids, flipping onto his side and burying his face in his pillow. He drifted off for a few moments until his alarm came to life, a loud beeping startling him and fueling his body with adrenaline as he leaped out of bed.

As he looked around his surroundings, he groaned and slammed a hand down on the alarm clock, letting out a large yawn.

"Ugh," he muttered, looking wistfully at his bed. But there'd be no point in climbing back in now; Mr. Stark had specifically designed that alarm clock to go off at a frequency that would make Peter wake up immediately. It changed the frequency of the tone slightly every day so that his brain didn't get used to the sound, and ever since Mr. Stark had made it for him he hadn't slept past his wake-up time once. Well, except for the time he accidentally broke the alarm with his super strength while attempting to turn it off half asleep. His new one was made of a mix of Vibranium and Adamantium, courtesy of Princess Shuri and King T'Challa. (Peter still thought it was insane that he got _Vibranium_ for his alarm clock, but Shuri had insisted that it was such a small amount it didn't matter. Still. Insane.)

He trudged over to his dresser, grabbing jeans and yanking them on. He glanced in his mirror for a second, peering closely at a huge bruise spanning the left side of his torso. He poked it tentatively, and then hissed in pain. 

"Wow, thanks a lot, Villain #735 from last night for throwing a steel rod at me. I predicted correctly; it left a bruise." Peter muttered sarcastically, grabbing on his science pun T-Shirt and pulling it on carefully.

He hurried through the rest of his morning routine, stopping in the kitchen to grab a granola bar and an apple. 

"Bye Aunt May!" he called down the hallway, and Aunt May's head poked out of her bedroom, hair tousled and glasses askew. She hurried towards him, giving him a hug and checking that he had breakfast, shoving $5 in his hand for lunch before shoving him gently towards the door.

"Bye Peter, I larb you."

"Larb you too Aunt May!" Peter called over his shoulder, already halfway out the door, voice muffled by a mouthful of apple.

May shook her head, smiling, before turning around to get ready for work.

~ ~ ~

**6 hours later...**

The kid wasn't even supposed to be here. He was supposed to be in school, learning pointless things and chatting to his friend Ned about whatever Star Wars Lego Set they were drooling over this week.

Yet there he was, in his glorified red and blue onesie, swinging past the Iron Man suit gracefully, much to the chagrin of Tony Stark.

"Kid, aren't you supposed to be in school?!" Tony shouted, shooting repulsor beams at the weird-ass alien experiments that decided to attack New York on this fine Friday afternoon. New Yorkers were scattering, taking a wide berth around the destruction, but none seemed particularly surprised.

"I mean, yeah, but fighting aliens with the Avengers is a much more productive way to spend my Friday afternoon!" Peter shouted, shooting webs at the nearest alien before swinging it around to slam into another one.

"He takes after you, Tones." Rhodey commented through their earpiece.

"After me? Are you kidding? I would much rather be sitting in my lab than fighting aliens right now, Rhodey." Tony retorted.

"Yes, but would you rather be sitting in a classroom with a bunch of irritating teens?" Natasha interjected smoothly.

"_Exactly_, thank you Ms. Romanoff."

"It's Nat." Natasha said, but all of them knew it was a losing battle; Peter still called all of them Ms. or Mr. 

It was pretty much a war by now.

"Yeah, okay." Peter said distractedly. "Where'd these aliens come from anyways?"

"They're not technically aliens." Bruce said from where he was positioned on the Quin Jet. "They seem to be genetically modified apes."

"_Really_ genetically modified apes." Clint muttered. "They look like a mix between a rabid dog and a serial killer. Mix in some pirahanas in there too and viola."

"Your explanation is blowing my mind." Tony said, deadpan, as he blasted another not-alien.

_Oh come on, how many of them are there?_

"Tony, I'm picking up a signal coming from the park. It seems that's where all the aliens are coming from. If we can get there and disable the power source, we can hopefully shut 'em all down."

"I thought they weren't aliens." Peter muttered, but Tony barely noticed the sound, too consumed with the familiarity of the whole situation.

"Cap, this isn't another wormhole thing, is it? Because as much as I'd love to make another sacrifice play to shut the aliens down, I think my luck has run out." Tony grunted as he blasted another alien away from him. "I'm too bogged down; someone else needs to go, or come and take my position and I'll go."

He listened over the comms, but no one else responded for a couple of heartbeats.

"I can't." Cap grunted, sounding like the air had just been knocked out of him. "Too many. Anyone else?"

A chorus of 'no's answered him.

"Is this a Hulk situation?" Bruce asked, a bit timidly, over the line. Was it? 

Before any of them could answer, though, another voice crackled over the comm.

"Negative, Dr. Banner, I can go." Peter said.

He was met with protests from every person.

"Kid, come and take my spot, I can go instead." Tony said breathlessly, trying to blow through as many aliens as he could.

"No, you can't, Mr. Stark, I'm closest and I got rid of all the mutant-aliens on my tail. By the time I get over to you and try and switch spots, more aliens will have come and there's no way to guarantee that we _both_ won't get bogged down." Peter argued.

He had a point, they could all tell, but all of them also felt very against the whole idea, like something would go wrong at any second.

Peter, however, didn't even wait for their response, and Tony pulled up a feed from Peter's suit to watch what was going on. And yeah, he got a bit more banged up because he was distracted, but it was worth it to know what was happening with the kid. 

"At least if I die, it'll be an honorable death." Peter joked.

"Yeah, no, you're not dying, kid, I'm not answering to May and telling her that you were killed by aliens. No death jokes."

"Hypocrite." Peter muttered, and Rhodey snorted in amusement.

"I may be a hypocrite, but I don't have a scary aunt."

"You have Pepper."

"Fair." Tony conceded, letting out a small 'oof' as the breath was knocked out of him from an alien hitting him in the back. He glanced away from Peter's feed for a moment to gauge his surroundings. It couldn't have been more than a couple of minutes, but his eyes snapped back almost immediately when he heard a loud ticking, going faster and faster. He rapidly glanced around him before realizing it was coming from _Peter's_ feed. Evidently, the rest of the Avengers realized that too, because the comm was suddenly filled with shouts of 'look out'. Tony opened his mouth to try and get his own warning out, but all he could do was stare mutely as Peter backed away, eyes landing on a small red device about 3 feet to his left side.

It read 0:05 seconds.

"PETER, GET OUT OF THERE!" Tony shouted, but it was too little, too late, and by the time the words had left his mouth, the timer had reached 0:00 and his screen was enveloped in a bright flash.

The last thing Tony saw from the feed was the sky and the trees, spinning rapidly, before everything went dark and static filled his ears.

~ ~ ~

The aliens all collapsed; whatever effect the explosion had had obviously taken out the power source. Tony wasted no time in blasting off to Peter's last known location; he could hear the rest of the Avengers doing so as well, and Steve was telling Bruce to get a med team ready.

The Iron Man suit got to the park swiftly... though it wasn't so much a park anymore as it was a large, ugly, black charred piece of land. Tony clenched his jaw and flew down to the center of it, looking desperately for a hint of red or blue.

"Come on, kid, I told you I didn't want to face May," Tony murmured. _So I don't have to tell her that her last family member died._

Nope, not going there. 

His eyes caught on an unnatural lump in the flat landscape that he at first had passed off as a burnt tree, but, upon further inspection, spotted glimmers of uncharred red and blue. Once his brain processed what he was seeing, he scrambled over to what was Peter's prone figure. He reached him and his suit opened up and let him out, allowing him to kneel near the kid.

His hands hovered over Peter's form, afraid of causing more damage, and his chest felt tight as he inspected the deep burns covering Peter's back, from head to toe. If his front had similar treatment, no one could survive the severity of the burns- not even Peter with his super-healing. Even now he was pushing it.

He gently rolled Peter over, wincing every single time he heard the crunch of Peter's burnt _skin_, because the suit hadn't even withheld the force of the explosion and had incinerated right away. Tony felt like vomiting.

He was not a religious man by any means, but he found himself whispering 'pleasepleasepleaseplease' over and over. When Peter was fully turned over, Tony didn't know whether to cry in relief or despair.

Peter's front was almost completely intact, if not a little singed, meaning he at least had a fighting chance. The Spider-Man mask had burned off, as well as a good portion of Peter's hair, and there was a nasty burn running up the side of his neck that would probably scar. But it was Peter's closed eyes and still face that bothered Tony the most. The kid wasn't supposed to be this _still_; he was always moving and nothing should be able to stop that.

"Ohmygod," he heard a whisper from behind him, and he turned his head to see Rhodey at his right shoulder. Of course Rhodey had gotten here before everyone else, with his War Machine suit.

"His back is even worse." Tony said gruffly, fighting to keep his voice from wavering. "Help me get him up and to the Quin Jet."

Rhodey did so, and when he saw Peter's back, the same nauseated look that Tony felt- and could still feel- washed over his face. They started to try and carry him to the Quin Jet, which was a mere 100 feet away, but it was difficult given his extensive injuries.

Bruce and the rest of the Avengers met them midway to the Quin Jet, and, upon seeing Peter's condition, each had different reactions of their own. 

"We need to get him on the Jet and to Helen Cho as fast as possible." Bruce said, his personal feelings towards Peter getting pushed aside in favor of viewing him as a patient to get the best results possible. "She has the Regeneration Cradle... but we have to remove the burnt layer of skin first." Bruce paused while they all took that in, his gaze darkening. "If we can get that off without him losing too much blood." he muttered, pushing them all on to the Quin Jet and shooting off towards the Tower.

"And what if you can't remove the skin? Because of the blood loss?" Tony asked. Bruce glanced up at him.

"No, no, that's not even the question. We _have_ to remove the skin, otherwise it'll lead to infection as it rots _on_ his body. The question is, will he survive the blood loss implications; plus the amount of skin we're scraping off will make him _extremely_ vulnerable to infection. The skin is the body's main barrier against bacteria. We have to go about this extremely carefully, because if he's introduced to any bacteria while his back is still an open wound, he could very easily die."

Tony reached out to grab Peter's hand, to squeeze it in reassurance- but it was too burnt, and he dropped his own hand back at his side, fingers falling limp.

"Just- do it." Tony said. "Whatever you can do, get the cradle in there, set it to the fastest setting, close the wound up- just, whatever you do, _help him._"

Bruce nodded. "I'll do my best, Tony. Cho and I will call in Strange, too, to see what he can do."

Natasha stepped forward, resting a hand on Tony's shoulder, warm and solid and comforting. Out of everyone, she seemed the least shaken, though Tony could see a glimmer in her eyes, betraying that she wasn't as emotionless as she let on. "I'll call the kid's aunt." she offered. Tony just nodded numbly.

The Jet landed and the doors slid open, a med team and Cho rushing in to take the gurney before racing back out, Bruce running after them and the rest of the Avengers team trailing behind.

Tony stared after Peter's body as it was rolled out of the Jet, feet frozen in place even as his whole being begged to chase after them, to stay with Peter until this was all over. But he knew it would do no good, and he could only think of 3 phrases bouncing around in his skull on an endless loop. 3 phrases he wished he'd had time to say to Peter before he was taken away, but he was too late now, he was always too late.

_I'm so sorry, kid._

_Please don't go._

_I love you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so evil I know. Yes, this is a cliffhanger, BUT DON'T WORRY, it'll be continued in the next Whumptober chapter, "Delirium"! (I'm not that evil lol)
> 
> Please excuse any grammatical errors, I didn't have time to revise this and just wanted to get it out before October 2nd was over... and I succeeded, it's 11:38 PM. But now I have homework to do that I haven't even started on haha this took 2 hours to write what the hell.


	3. "Delirium"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was written like a month ago and I forgot to post it I'm SORRY-
> 
> this is pt 2 to "Explosion"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all I'm sorry, life's been painful- I actually realized that I had written this AGES ago and not posted it so here it is, uh, sorry bout that.
> 
> I hope to find time to write soon!

Tony and the others - even May- were forced to stay out of the med bay for an agonizing two weeks. The only ones allowed in the room containing Peter and the cradle were Cho and Banner, and they had to undergo a series of procedures to clean all the bacteria off their bodies before entering the room to make it the most sterile environment possible. Tony spent most of his time on the waiting room side of the viewing panel, watching Peter and the monitors. It was the closest he could get to being with the kid after failing him so drastically.

Other than the completely not ideal situation, things were going according to schedule. Cho and Banner had managed to get the scorched skin off of Peter's back in a long, extensive, 37 hour surgery. They'd mentioned that without his healing factor, Peter would absolutely be dead- but then again, that was because of Spider-Man, and if Peter weren't Spider-Man, this wouldn't have happened in the first place. But if Peter weren't Spider-Man, he wouldn't have met Tony or the Avengers- but his Uncle wouldn't be dead. Was Tony just being selfish when he thought that he wouldn't have lived this long were it not for Peter?

Ugh. Feelings.

Regardless, it had been two whole weeks, and while Tony desperately wanted to do anything he could to ensure that Peter woke up healthy, he was also itching to be next to Peter, to hear him breathing, not see him through a glass window. So, he devised a half-baked sort of plan that wouldn't put Peter's life in danger but would hopefully get him in.

And, of course, that plan was to corner Bruce when he was walking out of the room after Peter's daily checkup. They both knew what he wanted to talk about, so Tony didn't waste time with pleasantries.

"When can I go in?" Tony asked, leaning against the wall as Bruce pulled off his disposable gloves and scrubs, tossing them in the trash bin. 

Bruce sighed. "Not for a while, Tony, you know we don't want to expose him to hazardous bacteria while still in a danger area."

"It's been two _weeks_, Bruce." 

Bruce gave him an unimpressed glance over the rim of his glasses, and Tony couldn't help but think he looked like one of those grumpy old librarians who always used to reprimand him for being too loud in the 'quiet zone.' "I get it, Tony, we all know you're an impatient person by nature, but you've gotta understand that it's all to make sure Peter lives and recovers as quickly as possible."

Tony sighed, and Bruce gave a small smirk, knowing that the second he brought up Peter he'd already won the argument. Rather than lose more of his dignity, Tony elected to stay silent, and Bruce walked past him, heading for the door.

"You know, that kid really does have you wrapped around his finger." the man called over his shoulder, opening the door. "Who ever knew that all it would take to shut Tony Stark up is to bring up the wellness of a teenager?"

Then he stepped out before Tony could say another word, and the man himself rolled his eyes, glancing towards the glass window in Peter's room. "The things I do for you, kid." he muttered, finding a chair to sit in.

~ ~ ~

Tony woke up to loud beeping sounds and doctors flurrying around. He jumped up from his seat, still half asleep- though he didn't remember sleeping, which was weird. A quick glance at his watch and a cursory sweep around the room showed that it was 12:16 in the morning, and it looked like an absolute mess.

Tony blinked away his bleary eyes and grabbed the arm of the closest doctor running by- who just so happened to be one very frazzled Bruce Banner.

"Bruce, what's wrong? Why are all the alarms going off and why is it an absolute shitfest in here?" Tony barely managed to finish his question before Bruce jerked out an answer that made Tony's blood run cold.

"It's Peter," the man said abruptly, turning and hurrying towards the hallway as Tony rushed to keep up with him.

"What do you mean? I thought you said everything was going well?" Tony said, thinking back to the conversation he'd had with Bruce a mere 6 hours ago. He'd assumed they were in the all-clear and was even joking about pushing the rules a bit. Now whatever had happened was serious and Peter's life was on the line- again. Tony was a fool for thinking anything would go as it should.

"Everything _was_ fine- up until an hour ago, when a nurse noted that his temperature was a bit higher than before. We didn't think it was much of a concern, as the body's temperature naturally fluctuates as it goes through a recovery period, but his fever steadily started to rise and is now at 104.6 degrees. In other words, he's caught an infection, and even if just a minor cold, his body needs to prioritize fixing up the burns on his back. However, if his immune system is working full time to get rid of the cold, it means his back will not heal and will remain fully open to more infections, which at this stage would be lethal. And we can't give him immune system repressants because even if his back heals up, without his immune system actively fighting against the cold, it could develop into something much worse. It's a lose-lose situation and we don't have much time to figure something out." Bruce said, and were it not for the direness of the situation, Tony would find it impressive and somewhat amusing that he almost managed to fit that entire explanation into one breath.

Bruce hurried out the door into the corridor, which was still flashing with red strobe lights, and Tony didn't have time to say anything before the door had swung shut again and he was alone. Well, actually, he was far from alone; doctors and nurses hurried around him left and right, throwing around medical terms that he should know but that his brain refused to process. And yet, despite all the hustle and bustle around him, Tony had never felt so alone in his life.

~ ~ ~

He decided to return to the viewing window, where it was less crowded as more doctors were focused on being _with_ Peter rather than just watching him from a window. He saw the silhouette of a woman standing there and was momentarily confused before mentally kicking himself when he realized it was May.

"Hi." he murmured quietly as he arrived at her side. 

"Hey." she replied, barely audible over all the noise. They both watched as doctors rushed in and out in uniform, sanitized white scrubs. There was a growing mass of disposed scrubs in the corner, as the doctors changed them every time they went out of the room; they weren't taking any more risks now. Needles were inserted into Peter's arms, bags of fluid attached and pumped in, blood drawn. The regeneration cradle was brought in, and Tony winced as they gently rolled Peter into it. He full out turned away as pure alcohol was sprayed on the irritated burns on his back; he supposed the one blessing of all this was that Peter was unconscious and couldn't feel it. The doctor's voices were muffled through the glass but he heard them yelling about how Peter's back had to be sanitized and cleansed before they could put new skin on; otherwise the current cells would reject the new ones and they'd start rotting on his body. That would leave him even more susceptible to new infections, and that was a risk they couldn't take.

May kept her eyes glued to Peter the entire time they were 'sanitizing' him, though her gaze was vacant and she wasn't really seeing what was happening.

"Parker Luck, huh." May said after they'd stood in silence for what felt like ages. Tony startled a bit; his mind had started to wander as well. He shot a glance at Peter, who was now firmly positioned in the cradle with the machine creating the delicate patterns of structured skin on his back.

"Yeah." Tony replied when he realized he hadn't said anything. He then kicked himself for the completely asinine response, but May wasn't even listening, too caught up in her own head.

"I just wish I could keep him safe." May admitted. "Like I used to be able to when he'd crawl into my bed after a nightmare. Back when he was 6. Back when I could solve all his problems, and he wasn't in danger of dying 24/7." her voice gradually lowered to a whisper. "Because it _hurts_, Tony. Every day when I see Spider-Man on the news- I see every time he gets hit and I make a mental note to check if he's favoring the other side that night. Because I know he won't tell me. And every time I see him falling, or thrown like a rag doll from the newest super-villain in some giant super-suit, I'm _terrified_. Terrified he won't catch himself, that he'll fall, and that he won't get up. Because he's _dead_. And I'm terrified of it because I can't stop it. I can see it, it could happen any second, but I can't do jack shit about it except tell him every day that I love him in case I won't be able to do it again. And to not leave arguments on an open note because that happened with Ben and I-" she squeezed her eyes shut, pausing. 

"And I want to keep him safe, but I also want to trust him. I try so hard not to hover because even though I love him _so much_, I have to let him make his own decisions. But it's so _hard_, and those days when he comes home and admits that he feels like shit, those are the worst days. Those are the days I want to wrap him up and never let him get into danger again. But I know I can't do that. And I love him too much to deny him what makes him happy; getting into that ridiculously bright suit every day and helping people." May stopped, choking back a sob.

"Sorry." she said, palms pressing against her eyes in a desperate attempt to quell the tears. Tony could feel his own eyes burning, especially after such a strong woman like May had broken down, but he was much more trained at pushing back his emotions. May gave a feeble, half broken laugh, pulling her hands away. "Sorry, just had to get that out to the only other adult who really gets the struggle of dealing with a super hero teen."

Tony gave a tight, sad smile. "I have a feeling you have it worse than me in that department. I don't know how you deal with every day."

May gave a half laugh, half cry, and the tears she was trying to hold back fell down her face as she started to laugh a bit. "Not well, as you can see."

Tony shook his head, his own tears threatening to return. "I contradict that." he said, watching as the woman wiped her eyes swiftly, erasing all evidence of the tears. "Come here." he said a bit awkwardly after a short pause, reaching out an arm for a quick hug. May reciprocated the hug; Tony was glad, because it would have been extremely weird if she hadn't.

"To be clear, I'm not giving away free hugs now." Tony said to fill in the awkwardness he felt from the hug. May chuckled and pulled away, wiping her eyes one last time.

"This is our secret now," she said, holding out a hand. "I won't mention it if you won't."

Tony grasped her hand and shook it, feeling a thousand moments of shared grief and love for the teen on the operating table pass between them at that second.

~ ~ ~

It was hours before someone came out to alert them of the news, and thankfully, it was good. May and Tony had situated themselves on the uncomfortable waiting room chairs, sharing stories of the dumb shit Peter did, and they had shared several laughs despite the darker mood.

They heard the footsteps at the same time, and Bruce appeared in front of them, dressed in his (8th? 9th?) pair of scrubs from that evening. He looked exhausted, but he gave them both a smile and they relaxed simultaneously.

"His skin accepted the new cells, and they're fusing together well." Bruce started off with. "That means his body can still work on getting rid of the cold; his fever actually broke a little under than 30 minutes ago. We were a bit worried in the middle because he was half conscious and extremely delirious, mumbling about trees and leaves and red lights, but we gave him a mild sedative and he's resting normally now. He should wake up in 6-7 hours, and his enhanced healing means that the skin on his back should be fused together at around the 4 hour mark, so you can go in after that and wait for him to wake up. Other than that, he'll just feel sore for a little while as his muscles and new skin stretch to move like he normally does, but that's normal. He is officially out of the danger zone." Bruce finished up with a warm smile.

May had stood up while Bruce was saying this, and Tony did too because he didn't like being the only one sitting. When Bruce was finished, May smiled at him and thanked him warmly, and Tony gave a grateful nod to the doctor too.

"I'm going to go take a nap, but FRIDAY will notify me when he wakes up." Bruce said, starting to walk away. "She'll let you two know when you're allowed in as well." He was about to close the door after him when another thought occurred to him and he popped his head back in. "Oh, and after he wakes up, the Avengers would like to see him." Then he swiftly drew his head out and shut the door gently behind him.

Tony and May walked over to the viewing window, where they could see Peter resting peacefully on the white sheets. Color had returned to his cheeks and his features were relaxed and soft.

"So, who's going to lecture him on the importance of _not_ standing near a ticking time bomb?" Tony asked.

May snorted in amusement. "He'd do it again if a civilian was in danger."

"I'm going to go gray prematurely." Tony remarked.

"Welcome to parenthood." May said.

"I'm not a parent."

"He says, after spending two and a half weeks in the waiting room for a teenager."

Tony rolled his eyes. May grinned, holding out a hand.

"Shake on it?"

Tony regarded her, noting the way that the wrinkles around her eyes crinkled when she smiled, so similar to Peter's. It was a small detail, one he hadn't noticed till now, one he didn't think he paid enough attention to the kid to know. Her eyes, a warm brown that held an innate sense of kindness that Peter's also held, also held a wisdom, one Peter hadn't acquired yet. His gaze traveled down to her outstretched hand, one that held a promise. _I won't tell if you won't._

He grasped her hand and shook it firmly.

"Our secret."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so overdue and I was an idiot and forgot to post it oops.
> 
> Anyways, I figured I might as well get this out, as I felt bad for leaving that last one on a cliffhanger. This one is more of an open ending, it focused a LOT more on Tony and May than I first anticipated, but I just kinda went with it after a while. It seemed like the right choice; dragging this along any further just seems pointless and long, so... here's the end. I'm assuming in my head that Peter woke up and they all have a happy ending, yay, but the benefit of this is that if you, for some unknown and odd reason, want Peter to die from infection, you could imagine that too, though this is more set up for a happier ending, you do you. 
> 
> And yeah, I think you understand by now that I just did not keep up with the daily prompts; high school truly is a bitch. Buuut yeah I hope you enjoyed this and I do want to do all of these eventually; they just will not all be written in October.
> 
> Next prompt is 'Human Shield' and I'm trying to get back in the groove of writing- plus I have some requests I have to write because they are SO overdue (sorry y'all).
> 
> Anyways, yes, bye.
> 
> 2928 words.


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